


Young and Stupid and Loving Every Second (Part 3)

by pastelswitchblade



Series: Young and Stupid [3]
Category: Winner (Band), iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:50:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelswitchblade/pseuds/pastelswitchblade
Summary: The "Body" video brings up old memories and unresolved feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired, of course, by Mino's "Body." If you haven't watched the video, go. Go now. I will wait.

“It’s pretty okay.”

Jiwon wiggled his eyebrows, his face twisted into a shit-eating grin.

“The song is catchy, but it’s not really my style.” Jiwon raised his eyebrows into his hairline.

“And?” Jiwon sang at him from across Hanbin’s bed.

Hanbin slapped the spacebar and the room went silent again. “ _ It’s not about me, _ ” he said firmly.

Jiwon whined and flailed his arms, trying to be cute and failing. “You didn’t even watch the whole video!” He scooted up to Hanbin’s side and started the video again. Minho’s face side-eyed them from the screen and Hanbin pinched the bridge of his nose. “You didn’t get to my favorite part. It’s right,” Jiwon waited until the chorus rolled around again, “Here!” 

Hanbin glanced at the screen again and immediately regretted it. Minho was caught in yet another steamy embrace with yet another woman, this time underwater in a pool, of all things. Hanbin slammed the laptop shut. “It’s not about me,” Hanbin said again angrily. “I don’t know where you get these crazy ideas, but you should never go there again.”

“Please, Hanbin. Who else would it be about. You guys haven’t talked in what, a year?”

“That’s not my fault,” Hanbin muttered.

“Bullshit,” Jiwon steamrolled. “He’s wrecked over you. Still. Enough to make a song about it. I even saw him staring at your number when we were on standby, it was kind of gross. All of the Winner guys even call you his ex! It’s so annoying, they always ask me, “Oh, how’s Minho’s ex doing? Is Minho’s ex in the studio right now? Do you and Minho’s ex want to go out for drinks later?”

“We’ve never been invited to drinks with them.”

“You’re missing the point here, Hanbin.”

Hanbin wasn’t missing the point. He knew exactly what Jiwon was talking about, but he hated every second of it. He shook his head and escaped out of the room before he could get attacked anymore. He stomped into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, draining half the can in one swig. He put it down on the counter and put his head down with it, resting his forehead on the cool tile. 

Even if Minho’s new song wasn’t about him, as catchy as it was, Jiwon was right. It had been almost a year since Hanbin and Minho were...whatever the hell it was they were. iKon got much busier after that stifling hot summer, and Hanbin along with them. He barely had time to contact his family, let alone anyone outside of the group and his managers. He felt himself replying less and less to Minho’s messages. He made empty promises to respond later when he was in a better mood, less tired, but those times never came. Soon, he felt so guilty he couldn’t even call him for fear of the anger and outrage he would surely be met with on the other side of the line. 

He barely got away with it. YG Entertainment was a small place to work, and they would constantly pass each other in the halls or be put on projects together. At first, Minho looked at him like a kicked puppy, confused and hurt. It only fueled Hanbin’s fear and guilt more. Eventually Minho’s looks turned sour, hurt still barely evident as he turned away from Hanbin and walked away anytime he came close. 

It was easier this way, Hanbin convinced himself. And surely Minho felt the same way. What they had done was dangerous and they had barely gotten away with it, professional lives intact. All that was left was to heal, move on, and move up.

Until this damn song, this damn music video, and God damn Jiwon deciding to stir the pot in Hanbin’s quickly failing heart. He took another swig of beer.

“So you watched the video.” Hanbin almost choked as he turned towards Jinhwan’s voice. He was curled up on the couch, pantsless, large coffee mug in hand. He took up so little space, Hanbin didn’t even register him as he stormed past out of his bedroom. Jinhwan sipped at his mug. He’d managed to keep Chanwoo convinced it was tea, but Hanbin knew that mug was always filled to the brim with cheap Chardonnay. 

Hanbin nodded. “Most of it.”

Jinhwan smacked his lips lightly after taking another sip. He flipped the page of a magazine on his lap, not once looking up at Hanbin. “You going to go talk to him?” He asked.

“It’s not about me,” Hanbin whined.

Jinwhan took a larger sip of wine, still somehow gulping it down like it was a mild chamomile brew. “You are going to go talk to him.” It was no longer a question, but a demand. Hanbin pouted and fiddled with the tab on his beer can. 

“It’s not my fault,” he said weakly, not even convincing himself anymore. “And he’s super busy now, with the Mobb stuff.” Jiwon was in the midst of getting dressed for a Mobb schedule himself, if the loud clumsy slamming echoing from his room was any clue. He emerged soon after, saving Hanbin from anymore of Jinhwan’s all-knowing scolding. 

“You want to come with me? Minho will be there,” Jiwon said, barely stifling a giggle. Jinhwan fixed him with an icy glare from over his mug.

“No, I do not, I am not going to talk to him and you cannot make me, and please, just — don’t help me.” Hanbin stormed back into his room and slammed the door, taking his now lukewarm beer with him.

Somewhere between watching the “Body” video on repeat and wallowing in his own self pity, Hanbin fell into a deep, hard sleep. He only awoke to Jiwon shaking him violently by the shoulder.

“What the fuck? What do you want?” He grumbled. He squinted into the darkness, sun long gone down, barely making out Jiwon’s slouched shoulders.

Jiwon scoffed, but sounded panicked. “Someone was calling you, and I thought it was my phone so I just answered it? I don’t know, I didn’t mean to, sorry. You should answer though, it might be important.” He had his hand cupped around the microphone, crudely muting the call with his palm. Hanbin groaned, but took it from him. “You better fucking make it up to me,” he whispered harshly as Jiwon retreated quickly out of the room and shut the door behind him.

He cleared his throat and propped himself on an elbow, eyes still barely open. “Hello?”

“Hello? Hanbin? Are you there, is that you?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“Um...it’s Minho.”

Hanbin sat up like a shot, head swimming as blood rushed out of it and settled sickeningly in his gut. He took the phone away from his ear and stared at the caller ID. He hadn’t seen that number in months, but there it was, staring back at him like the barrel of a gun. “Minho…”

“Yes, that’s me. It’s Minho. Song Minho,” he chuckled. Hanbin’s heart lurched into his throat at the sound of Minho’s voice, ringing deep and rough in his ear. “What’s up?”

Hanbin rubbed a hand over his face. “What’s up is...not much. I’m just at the dorm. The normal, I guess.” Hanbin had no idea what to say. He felt like he was drowning.

“That’s good. I hope you’re good, I mean. I mean, um… I missed you.” 

Hanbin sobbed dryly and stared up at his ceiling. “I...I missed you, too.” He wasn’t lying. It felt like ages since he had heard Minho’s voice, but with two words Minho had him spinning with emotion, desire, and need.

“Really? You did?” The hope in his voice nearly broke Hanbin.

“Yeah. Yes, I did. I do. I miss you.”

The line went silent awhile, and Hanbin almost thought he had hung up on him.

“I think we should talk,” Minho said finally. “In person.”

“Yeah, we should. Do you want to meet somewhere, or something?”

“I’m back home right now. You could come over,” Minho suggested. Bile rose in Hanbin’s throat as memories rushed back to the forefront of his mind. There was too much feeling there, too much that Hanbin associated with the Winner dorm that he wasn’t sure what he would do if he ended up back there again. He thought about suggesting his own dorm, but guiding Minho through the knowing looks of Jinhwan and Jiwon to talk privately in his room sounded mortifying. He scrambled.

“How about the practice room? I doubt anyone’s there this time of night. I have a key,” he reasoned.

Minho laughed. “I do, too. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” And with that, the line went dead. Hanbin sat for a minute, his mind still reeling. It was time to man up and finally be an adult about his actions. He didn’t feel prepared whatsoever, but he doubted that he ever would. Now was as good a time as any for Mino to rip him a new one so they could both actually move on. He brushed his hair down haphazardly with his fingers in the mirror, pulled his big boy pants on, and ran out the door. 

He took his time getting to the practice room. He was in no rush to run himself straight first into a heartbreak train wreck, so he meandered a bit, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His skin felt raw as the early autumn breeze brushed over it. His nerves were frayed and fragile. It was almost nauseating and he longed to run away again, but they deserved better. After all this time, Minho definitely deserved better. 

When he finally got to the practice room, his hand nearly slipped off the doorknob from the cold sweat. He got a grip (on the knob and himself) he quickly threw open the door and closed it softly behind him, like ripping a bandaid.

Minho sat quietly at the end of a long wooden bench. When he looked up at the sound of door, it tore a tiny hole in Hanbin’s heart. Song “Hugeboy” Minho looked so tiny, curled in on himself alone in the mirrored room. His eyes were glassy, sad and guilty as if he was the one who managed a Grade A Fadeout over a year of idol activities. Hanbin walked over to him slowly like approaching a stray cat, but didn’t sit down. 

“You came,” Minho said quietly, after a long moment of avoiding eye contact. Hanbin looked up at the clock. It was only five minutes past the time they were supposed to meet, but he felt guilty for wandering.

“Did you wait long?”

Mino shrugged. “I was early.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them. 

Hanbin nodded, examining the hardwood floor with extreme interest. This Minho was a new creature, a full flip from the dominant, charismatic yet caring rapper Hanbin was so used to seeing. He wasn’t sure how to react, let alone start to apologize. He sighed, shook the nerves out of his hands, and sat beside Minho on the bench.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Hanbin cringed at the sound of his own voice in the silence.

Minho chuckled and seemed to relax slightly. “Yeah, I guess it has. I was kind of surprised that you even agreed to meet me, actually. It seemed like...I didn’t think you liked me much any more.”

“I do like you still!” Hanbin said, a little too loudly. “I did want to meet you. To talk to you. I just…” Hanbin ran a hand over his face. “I’m not sure how to explain it. But I didn’t ever mean for what happened to happen. I kept telling myself I would respond to your texts and call you back when I had more energy, when I was happier because that’s what you deserve, and I just...didn’t. Eventually I was so scared that you’d be angry at me and hate me, I couldn’t muster the courage to respond. I’m not trying to make excuses, I just really didn’t mean to hurt you even though I did. I really did, and I am so sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

Minho deflated next to him and for a second Hanbin thought he had started crying. Hanbin was close to tears himself, but when he sat back up again, Minho was smiling. 

“So that’s all it was,” he whispered.

Hanbin frowned. “All it was? That was really shitty of me! I was really shitty!”

“Yeah, you were,” Minho chuckled. “But I forgive you.”

“Really? Because I wouldn’t forgive me.”

Minho smiled softly, looking at his hands. “I forgive you. Because I’m just really, really glad you don’t hate me.” Hanbin stared at Minho dumbly. “I thought...I thought the reason you stopped talking to me was because you didn’t like me anymore. That you hated me because I wasn’t giving you enough, or because I was too hard on you...I was angry at first. But I’m not angry anymore. Now I’m just glad I get to hear your voice again. See that dumb crease in your brow again.” Minho pressed his finger against the cavernous wrinkle between Hanbin’s eyebrows and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

They sat together a while in quiet, hands clasped lightly on the bench. Hanbin was overflown with emotions, and his brain was having a hard time processing what was happening. Minho wasn’t mad at him anymore, they were talking again, and maybe, just maybe…

“Hey Minho,” he started slowly. Minho looked at him expectantly, and Hanbin smiled wryly. “I listened to the song.” 

Minho groaned, slumping his shoulders forward and hiding his face in his hands. So Jiwon was right. Hanbin wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty, flattered, or turned on. All he really wanted to do was listen to the song one more time.

“Do you really think about my legs?” Minho just groaned louder, sliding down to the floor and rolling under the bench in shame. Hanbin just laughed, the amount of happiness in his heart making him a little dizzy. “Jiwon says the best part is the pool, but I’m pretty partial to the shower scene— hey!” Minho pinched his ankle from under the bench and Hanbin dragged him out, wrestling him against the floor until he had both of Minho’s wrists pinned above his head. Minho smirked, panting slightly, and Hanbin leaned down without even thinking. 

Minho let out a shaky sigh as their lips met, and Hanbin could definitely get used to this. Minho looking up at him expectantly, almost submissively, triggered something deep in Hanbin that he had never felt when they were together before. Minho was always in control, always setting the pace for everything. Now he was waiting patiently for Hanbin to make the next move. He didn’t wait long. 

They were hesitant at first, so long since the last time they had been less than three feet from each other, but kissing Minho was like riding a bike and Hanbin loved every second of it. He ran his hands down the smooth, caramel skin of Minho’s arms, a soft sound escaping as their tongues tangled. Hanbin was gone, the unsteady glass holding his sanity spilling out as he hovered over Minho, drinking in every touch, smell, and sound he had missed for a long, long year.

Hanbin ground his hips down and whined, the friction deliciously heady. Minho growled, flipping them over on the floor and Hanbin’’s head knocked loudly on the hardwood. Minho panicked, cradling the back of Hanbin’s head in his hand but Hanbin just laughed, pulling Minho back down to him. The throbbing in his skull was no match for the heat quickly pooling in his stomach.

He nipped at Minho’s neck, nipping slightly as Minho arched against him. He steadily rolled his hips and Minho sobbed dryly, dropping to his elbows over Hanbin. Hanbin was fascinated, hitting new spots and quirks he had never found as Minho squirmed above him. Minho was open, shameless, and pliant; it was intoxicating. It was like with this new confession and resolution there was an opening in Minho’s heavily guarded heart that wasn’t there before. Hanbin longed to pry it open and wedge himself in it permanently, but he took it slow. 

He peppered kisses over Minho’s face as he palmed him firmly through his pants. He ran his fingers lightly along the elastic waistband while burying his other hand deep in Minho’s hair. Minho whined, his eyes scrunching closed as he buried his face in Hanbin’s neck. “Hey,” Hanbin whispered, surprised at how wrecked his own voice sounded. “Minho,” he said louder, pulling up on Minho’s hair gently. “Look at me.”

Minho shook his head, leaning forward again to hide himself. Hanbin pulled lightly on Minho’s hair, and it elicited a hiccuped moan. Minho looked up at him, brows furrowed tightly over his dark eyes. “Hanbin, I’m gonna cum like this.”

“Do it,” Hanbin whispered. He nipped at Minho’s earlobe as he pulled Minho out of his pants, his length a familiar weight in his hand. “It’s okay. We’ve got time for other stuff later.”

_Later._ As in  _another time._  Minho sobbed and curled in on himself, focusing on the pleasure as Hanbin brought him to his peak. He groped blindly for the button on Hanbin’s jeans. His hands were embarrassingly shaky. Every touch of Hanbin’s hands, the hands he had loved, cursed, and cried for for so long, left trails of fire on his skin. He barely got a hand around Hanbin before he could feel it. The heat snaked tight around his core and he gasped, his vision going blurry before he closed his eyes tight.

Minho released messily over Hanbin’s stomach, hitting the hem Hanbin had pulled up just in time. Minho’s eyes scrunched so cutely, his voice reduced to a growl, and Hanbin wasn’t far behind. He came as Minho opened his eyes and pulled Hanbin’s fingers to his mouth with a free hand.

“Fuck,” Hanbin whispered, still helplessly turned on as Minho pulled each finger into his mouth, sucking them clean. He moved on to Hanbin’s stomach, where their release mixed in swirls. He left sucking kisses in his wake, almost reverent in their gentleness. Hanbin watched it all.

Minho looked up and panicked, pulling Hanbin’s shirt hem down quickly over his damp tummy as he climbed back up Hanbin’s body. Hanbin looked up at him in confusion until he reached up and felt the wetness rolling fast down his cheeks. He’d been crying for who knows how long, and hadn’t even noticed.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I went way too far,” Minho rasped, and Hanbin laughed. His eyes betrayed him, and tears kept falling.

“No, no, no, I don’t know...Ha, I really don’t know why I’m crying,” he sniffed. Minho watched in horror, completely unsure of how to react. “Don’t look at me like that Minho, fuck,” Hanbin kept laughing, and Minho smiled. He pressed his shirt hem up to Hanbin’s nose. “I guess I just...I’m really happy you’re back,” Hanbin finally managed. He sniffed and smirked as he pulled Minho’s shirt from his nose. “And I don’t really mind this Soft Boy Minho development— ow! Hey fuck you, don’t hit me while I’m trying to be sentimental!

Minho pulled their foreheads together. “I’m happy, too,” he murmered. “I’m so happy you called me.”   
“Called...what? You called me,” Hanbin laughed, placing a small kiss on the side of Minho’s mouth. Somehow through all the crying and cheesiness, he was hard again.

“I definitely did not call you, Hanbin. You called me.”

Hanbin pulled away and frowned. “No, you called me. And Jiwon answered the phone thinking it was his, so he woke me up from my nap, and...oh.”

Minho smiled weakly.

“KIM JIWON IS A DEAD MAN.”

**Author's Note:**

> So quite obviously, this was supposed to be done like a week after body came out.  
> FUCK  
> but it's here now, and i hope you liked it.  
> please comment, it keeps me young and the pron flowing


End file.
